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ebonyforged · 1 year

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★ The pre-amnesia and post-amnesia fashion comparison that no one asked for but y’all are gonna GET.

Fair warning, there are large images of the individual outfits below the cut. I had to group them up as 1 pre-amnesia outfit (left) with 1 post-amnesia outfit (right) because that’s the only way tumblr’s shitty cropping system will let me do it without it all being tiny as fuck. </3 If you’re interested in peeping all the details, I recommend clicking on an image and then right-clicking it to open the image in a new tab to view the HD version.

Left: Most common pre-amnesia outfit Right: Most common post-amnesia outfit

Left: Pre-amnesia date/casual outfit Right: Post-amnesia date/summer outfit

Left: Most ‘dated’ pre-amnesia outfit (1700′s) Right: Most ‘modern’ post-amnesia outfit (2020′s)

Notable differences:

★ Post-amnesia, Ebony sacrifices practicality for aesthetics a lot more frequently. There is a limit, of course, you still won’t find her in stilettos, skirts, or dresses. ★ Where before she would often wear only dark shades in an effort to blend in, Ebony now adores pairing her darker pieces with a brighter garment to offset it. There is a lot more playing around with different fabrics, textures, and finishes such as shiny, glittery, sheer, or reflective items. ★ Ebony wears more and bolder make-up. She’s perfectly comfortable with going out bare-faced either way, but if she has time she will now use that to do something fun like colorful eye-shadow, glittery looks, or graphic eyeliner. She still won’t wear foundation or concealer. ★ Her hair is worn down more often than not, whereas before it was the other way around and she would typically opt for tying it up. On occasion, she will take the effort to curl it. Again, aesthetics over practicality. ★ Ebony went from exposing mostly just her cleavage to also comfortably exposing her midriff in public. ★ Long coats are out, cropped tops and jackets have become a staple of her wardrobe post-amnesia, paired with both high-waisted and low-waisted bottoms. ★ While the quality of her accessories and jewelry has gone down, the amount of them combined and layered has gone up. ★ Most items are now thrifted, bought on sale, freebies, or shoplifted. Before, most of her clothes were bought new or even tailored specifically for her. Just like the jewelry, quality has been set aside for quantity and options. ★ Her birthmark on her left shoulder is no longer always hidden by her clothes. ★ Ebony got her right eyebrow pierced and got another piercing in the shell of both ears shortly post-amnesia.

Obviously, she’s the same person. A lot of her preferences remain and there are just as many similarities are there are differences. Either way, I hope this is a fun comparison for some!

#i hope at least some of you all find this interesting <3 i know visuals are always better at showing these things than writing 3 pages on it #im really worried i spent forever on this just for no one to really care so if you do like this please consider interacting with the post #so i know people are seeing it <3 id genuinely really appreciate it #because full disclosure my anxiety about posting this is huge #maybe let me know your favorite look!#★ I like to wear my human skin outside in disguise. {Ebony}#★ Have to sew my innards up — stitch 'em tight; I'm so shy! {wardrobe}#my art

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gerardwaygirlmoments · 1 year

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Considering how much of a Mary Sue Ebony Dark’Ness Dementia Raven Way was and how self-indulgent My Immortal was, it must’ve taken some real restraint for the author to not make Ebony an actual relative of Gerard Way

#Ebony said it was a shame she wasn’t related to Gerard BECAUSE he’s a major hottie #So going by that and all the other wild stuff in the fic I wouldn’t be surprised if some weird incest thing was put in and it was framed as #good somehow #But I digress #i never finished My Immortal actually. I should #I was in a stage production of it though. That was a wild time. I should write a post about it at some point #my immortal #ebony dark'ness dementia raven way #gerard way

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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The people (or person) who sent in the two request, THANK YOU!! Both ideas are so good and I’m excited to write them 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

And for the person who asked about the dancer reader, do you care what movie? I had king creole (like reader being a dancer at the king creole) in mind bc I have this idea. But if you have a preference let me know!!

#the ebony/jet magazine one? amazing!#also for the dancer reader thing #the Elvis x reader x jerry idea I was working on was for the reader to be a dancer for the 68 special #I still plan on doing the request… maybe write that then finish my idea #I just don’t want there to be large similarities since both ideas are similar #I want to do king creole bc I kind of love the idea of Elvis falling for someone while he’s technically in the army #I’m pretty sure he got a deferment to finish the movie

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winchesternova-k · 2 years

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ugh i’m finding this part rlly iffy to write? part of me feels like it’s too melodramatic but like,, it’s a soap opera fic so like that kinda goes w the territory but mainly i feel like these two characters Need to have it out to like actually work together which the show absolutely did not do (and they absolutely would not be able to do it calmly, which is fair since their baggage includes what basically amounts to a *literal murder attempt*)

i’m also super conscious of trying not to turn ebony into a villain for a lot of reasons bc a) she’s an extremely morally grey antagonist who is definitely not a good person but i also don’t think she has no redeeming qualities/is a wholly bad person, b) she has Reasons for being a shitty person. like she’s still unquestionably in the wrong but knowing the shit that she’s dealt w (which most of the characters don’t ofc) means that there’s a level of understanding, and c) she’s Black and all of my pov characters r non Black which adds another level to any interactions that would cast her as in the wrong w no justified reason or w a reaction that’s out of proportion compared to non Black antagonists/villains who have done the same or worse w less consequence

#mainly i’m trying to make my pov characters understand while also being angry #i also want to write a character study of ebony bc she’s genuinely fascinating and writing this has also made me think a lot more abt #what goes on in her mind #it may end up being a companion piece tbh #but if i start writing it now nothing will ever get finished #i feel like i’ve written her dialogue in a revealing enough way but tbh i always felt like some of the characters should’ve been a bit more #understanding. not forgiving or excusing just understanding #anyway i’m hoping i manage to get that across #don’t mind me this is the scene where they actually discuss her attempted murder so im trying to balance the anger and her reasoning #w/o tipping the scales into excusing her or making her out to be worse than she is #idk how clearly this is worded but tldr: ebony did the wrong thing but she does good sometimes and i don’t think she should only be seen as #evil or w/e bc she isn’t cruel for kicks and also if she was a white woman the wlw fandom would trip over themselves for her #she has reasons even if they’re bad ones #think like similar moral code to early!rowena but w/o the absent mother stuff plus more trauma/baggage #emily actually writes #with grace in your heart

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hayuro · 5 months

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#i feel like such a b/oomer using tumblr these days LMAO #everything is sooo different like ………#i clicked the wrong thing 3 times even tho i knew it wasn’t the right thing #anyways …….. hi (:#i miss yumiko my beloved but also i’ve had another oc on my brain these days n i clearly struggle to balance the two #mayhaps i’ll remake n do a soft reboot soon i miss writing #or maybe i should make ebony a blog hehe

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dawn-moths · 8 months

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Turquoise & Temptations

Neuvillette x Female Reader

word count: 2600+

(Being the girl of Fontaine’s Chief Justice has its ups and downs, but one thing is for certain— the time you two spend together in Neuvillette’s office at the end of a long workday, whether he’s filing some last minute paperwork or simply taking a moment of peace and quiet before heading home, always has the opportunity to get interesting…)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, semi-public sex (you’re in his office but the door’s not locked), size difference, daddy kink, mention of punishment with no actual punishment, reader is called “sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby”, minimal prep, some aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You shifted your position sitting in Neuvillette’s lap, straddling him with the skirts of your dress bunched up and your lace-clad core pressed against where his own growing arousal had begun to jut from his pants, trying to be sly in grinding your needy sex harder down against him, as if he’d even have a chance to miss it.

You’ve been like this for a while now— cradled against his chest and nearly dozing off while he finishes up some last minute paperwork at his desk, lashes fluttering with oncoming sleep, lips slightly parted as your breathing began to grow slow and shallow— but it was technically his fault for getting you so worked up in the first place.

He’d started it, after all, causing you to jolt back to consciousness when you felt his cock twitch in his trousers as your weight had settled overtop his lap with just enough pressure to stir something a little less professional in him.

He clicks his tongue at you, but it’s not with annoyance. It’s with that condescending adoration that tends to weave through his tone whenever you get impatient, unable to let him finish his work before distracting him with your body and the fantasy of all the ways he wants to have you.

Because, while he may have been guilty of starting things, you were far more guilty of instigating, hiking your dress up higher to allow you more room to spread your thighs wider over his own, rocking forward and arching your back a bit until you found just the right place to satisfy your own needs.

At least, they’d be satisfied for a little while. You both knew before long you’d grow needy and demand more for him, tearing the Chief Justice from his more official duties and encouraging him to engage in some more personal affairs.

“Daddy’s almost done, sweetheart,” he cooed, one hand wielding a shiny gold fountain pen and scribbling off his tight-scrawled, looping signature on the dotted line while the other rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place, as if you had any intention of trying to leave. “Just be patient for a little while longer and then I’ll—”

His promise was cut off by a strangled whine caught in his throat, not missing the devious way your gloss-shined lips were curving into a defiant little smirk. His stunning gunmetal gaze leveled on you, his next signature left abandoned halfway through on the parchment as he held your stare, testing you now, daring you to keep going before he gave you permission.

If you did, he might just have to punish you, bend you over his desk and fuck you fast and hard till there were tears in those pretty little doe-eyes of yours, forcing you to keep quiet with a big, leather gloved hand clasped over your open mouth, biting back his own moans the best he could until he felt like you’d learned your lesson.

You seemed to foresee this possibility, so you kept still, your throat bobbing with a hard, anticipatory swallow, your pussy throbbing at the thought of it, and waiting for Neuvillette to resume his writing. He cleared his throat and concluded his signature, dotting the i and crossing the double t’s a little more aggressively than he had previously, the quick tap and scritch of the pen’s sharp nib marking the page in ebony ink making you flinch a tiny bit.

You thought he was finally finished when he gathered up the thick stack of papers in both hands and shuffled them on the surface of the marble desk, smoothing them all in perfect order before tying them with a piece of cobalt twine and sealing the documents with a wax stamp of shimmering silver, ready to be picked up and sent off to wherever it was the court transcripts went once he was done with them, but then he seemed to begin with a whole new stack, this one even taller and wordier than the last, so you couldn’t help but huff out a breath of blatant indignance.

Neuvillette hummed out a low, lilting chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours as you pressed yourself closer to him, tugging at the lapels of his coat and whimpering in protest. “Don’t worry, princess…” he assured you. “I’m just getting things in order for tomorrow.”

“And how long will that take…?” you muttered under your breath, thinking you might act out and risk the consequences depending on his answer.

But then you felt both of his gloved hands on you, long fingers flexing where they held your hips, sending a momentary confusion through you when he seemed to be pulling you down harder against him rather than shifting you away for your backtalk.

“Tell you what,” he began, his voice, normally so authoritative and commanding in the courtroom, turned honey-sweet and soothing when it came to you, even when you were insisting on being a little bit of a needy brat. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work—” He held up a finger to signal silence as your mouth fell open in premature protest. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work,” he repeated, pausing for a second and raising his eyebrows slightly, challenging you to try and interrupt again, “and I’ll let you have your way until I’m done.”

You cocked your head at him, eyes narrowed and mouth twitching into a crooked frown of pondering, wondering if this was some kind of test or not. Then it was his turn to catch you off guard, rocking his hips up into yours and causing you to emit a stuttering gasp as you felt just how hard his length had become, your eyes fluttering and beginning to roll from the sudden jolt of pleasure, your body surging with the need for more, more more, sheer, unadulterated want racing through your blood like sparks of white-hot electricity.

“Go on…” he smugly directed you, his eyes flicking from your face down to where your two bodies sought each other out and back again. Then, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear, his lips barely brushing the shell of it and causing a gentle shudder to skitter up your spine, he teasingly murmured, “Just be sure not to make too much noise. I’m pretty sure I left the door unlocked and, well…”

And, well, if anyone heard your high-pitched moans muffled from the other side of the double doors, they might creep up closer to investigate, maybe even dare to enter after giving the customary knock of courtesy and find you in a state you’d be mortified for anyone besides Neuvillette to see you in.

“I’ll be quiet,” you muttered back, unable to hide the excitement that was flooding your chest more and more by the second, your eager little fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, the gentle clink of the silver against your freshly manicured nails— this week a shade of pale turquoise— echoing quietly throughout the spacious office room until finally you were able to tug the leather strap free so it could dangle from the sides of the loops in his pristinely pressed trousers.

Pristine, of course, except for the damp spot left on his crotch, both of your intermingled arousal staining through to ruin his expensive work attire.

That was alright with Neuvillette though. Whether it was his clothes or your own that got ruined during these acts, he could always just buy more. To him, a constantly updated wardrobe was a small price to pay for how good it felt when he was inside you, suddenly wishing he’d decided to leave early that day so you two could finish this in your shared master bedroom of his estate, no need to keep quiet in the slightest as he forced melodic mewls and euphoric moans from your pretty little mouth, drinking them in, drowning in them, completely addicted.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, pressing a chaste, tender peck to your temple before continuing on with his work.

Once you’d pulled his cock free of its constraints, Neuvillette had to remind himself to keep his own sounds of pleasure quiet as well, gulping down the groan he already felt rising in his chest as you ran your soft little hands up and down the length of him, appearing entranced as you admired the blushing pink tip, pearly pre-cum already drooling out onto your palms, every vein and ridge of his velvety member practically committed to your memory, and making your dripping little hole flutter in anticipation.

Neuvillette gripped the gold fountain pen in his hand a little tighter, his stomach muscles flinching as you guided his cock between your soaked folds, the lace of your drenched panties giving just enough friction to make him crazy, melting his sharp mind into something dull and hazy with the slow dripping pleasure, his breath beginning to come out in short, panting huffs rather than the sure, steady, and stoic way he usually carried himself.

“God—” he exhaled, strangled and struggling to keep his composure. You grinded yourself down harder against him, your own angelic sighs of satisfaction fanning over the bit of exposed skin on his neck and making his cock pulse in your grip. Then he couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to hook his thumbs into the thin, delicate waistband of your lace panties and tearing them off with one harsh, hungry tug.

And he always said you were the one who was too impatient.

“I can’t focus with you around,” he was practically growling, stealing his cock away from your clumsy little hands and guiding it by the base until he felt the tip catch on your tight little hole, tugging another sharp gasp from your throat, using the other hand to nudge you forward to sink further down onto his cock.

You bit your tongue as you felt a moan clawing its way up your chest, knowing he’d been serious when he’d told you to keep quiet— for both his sake and yours— but you couldn’t hold it in. Burying your face in his shoulder, you cried out as he forced himself the rest of the way in with one quick, stinging thrust, splitting you in two and causing fat, sparkling tears to well in your blurring vision from the sudden, burning stretch of him nestled so deep inside of you.

You felt his body relax a fraction then, shedding some of that animalistic desire and allowing him to return to the safety of the sweet, soft-spoken Daddy that you knew him to be, running a hand up and down you back in slow, soothing motions as he muttered out little apologies like, “Sorry for being so rough with you, sweetheart,” and “Daddy just couldn’t take it anymore. But don’t worry. I’m going to make it all up to you now,” until you raised your head from its hiding place in his shoulder and let him pepper loving little kisses to your neck, his mouth trailing down to the plush, flushed flesh of your exposed cleavage and sucking a little there, giving you some time to adjust to the feeling of being so painfully full of him.

“Please…” you exhaled, voice cracked and broken with another whine of pleasure as the aching in your core twisted even tighter, a cord about to snap. “Please, Daddy… I need you. Please…”

And Neuvillette didn’t wait a second longer to start rolling his hips up into you again, slow and steady at first, tugging one of his gloves free with his teeth and tossing it to land on his desk so he could feel every part of you, running the rough pad of his thumb over your pulsing, swollen clit and clenching his jaw as he winced, feeling your insides squeeze around him in that painfully sweet way you both loved so much.

“That’s it…” he encouraged, rocking up into you a little harder then as the pressure of his circles increased, knowing neither of you had much longer to go now, his voice laced with something raspy and borderline feral. “Good girl… Just like that— Archons, baby—”

You were biting the fabric of Neuvillette’s coat between your teeth, doing your best to ride him in tandem with his skillful ministrations until you were seizing up and coming undone for the first time that evening, your legs trembling and your muscles constricted as more of your glistening slick dripped down in thick, dewy strands to stain the inside of your thighs and his trousers, his cock pulsing where it was still buried deep inside your tender cunt.

He was filling you to the brim mere seconds later, the familiar flood of his viscous, sticky warmth filling your tummy and soothing you from the inside out. As you slumped in his arms, Neuvillette held you close, running the fingers of his untarnished, gloved hand through your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, tracing little patterns into the soft skin between your shoulder blades where there was a diamond cutout in your dress’s back as he helped you through the comedown.

Once he’d gone completely soft inside of you, he placed both hands under your thighs and carefully lifted you from his lap and onto the top of his desk, pushing the papers that still littered it to the far end before instructing you to lay back so he could clean you up. At least, to the best of his ability given all he really had on hand at the moment was a handkerchief.

You flinched as the cool marble of the desktop met the backs of your bare arms, exhaling a shuddering breath through your nose as the cold air of the room kissed your exposed, soaked pussy, sending yet another chill through you.

“I know, baby…” Neuvillette cooed, giving the crisp, satiny handkerchief in his hand a quick whip so it could unfurl, starting his tender, meticulous work in caring for his favorite girl after she was so spent. “I’ll draw you a nice, warm bath once we get home, so just bare it a little longer, alright?”

As he wiped as much slick from between your legs as he could, attempting to attend to himself afterward but giving up halfway, just thankful the length of his coat would cover any lingering evidence, you felt like you could drift off to sleep again, eyelids growing heavy as the surface of the desk gradually warmed beneath you from your radiating body heat.

But you couldn’t sleep here. Not now. Because not five seconds after Neuvillette had helped you off the desk and back on your own two wobbly, tired legs, straightening out your skirts and smoothing down the front of his closed coat, there was the tell-tale knocking of one of the courthouse’s interns at the office door.

You gave your Daddy a look of concern and alarm, unsure of how much evidence of what you two had done was left in the open, but Neuvillete just flashed you a cocky grin and called out for them to enter, quietly telling you to take a seat in the big, plush armchair behind his desk as he grabbed up the papers and hurried to meet the intern halfway to hand them off, engaging in a short, pleasant conversation before sending them on their way and hopefully none the wiser.

“Alright, princess,” he beckoned you, reapproaching to offer you a hand as you stood from the chair. “Let’s go home.”

Just before allowing you to lock your arm with his like you usually did, Neuvillette knelt down and picked up a piece of shredded, icy blue lace fabric— the remnants of one of your favorite pair of panties, destroyed with his impatiently eager hands— and shoved it into his pocket.

He’d owe you new ones, plus interest, for having torn them up without any warning, but you didn’t necessarily mind.

You just hoped the next time you two did something like this in his office during work hours, he remembered to lock the door.

***

(Anyone else also sort of obsessing over some of the new Fontaine guys, or just me lol

I definitely see myself writing more for Neuvillette in the future, especially as we learn more about him.

Anyway, like always, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day! <3)

#neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact fanfics #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette smut #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction

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ebonyheartnet · 1 year

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-at a gala-

Joker: *holds Danny hostage bc he thinks he’s a Wayne*

Danny: Oh my god, at least my town’s clown villain wasn’t fucking sad. He also wore his goddamn contacts!

Joker, reaching for his stupid acid flower: Oooh! If you want to show a little backbone, I’ll be happy to help.

Danny: *double checks that there are no cameras*

Danny, phasing through his chains and pulling out his spine like a sword: Much appreciated. :)

-In the batcave-

Jason, watching live feed from Cass’s mask: This is amazing.

Jason: I’d ask someone to pinch me to check if I’m dreaming, but even I couldn’t come up with something this fucking funny.

Tim, frantically searching for answers: WHY DID IT START GLOWING AFTER THE FIRST SWING?!

Jason: No clue, but—Black Bat, stop laughing, he’ll hear you!—but can you find his address for me?

Tim:

Tim: I’m already doing that, but something tells me I need to judge you right now.

Jason: I need to give this man a casserole.

Tim: The one I gave—

Jason: Of course it’s the one you gave Kon and Bernard.

Tim, giving a thumbs up and doubling down: Say no more.

#dp x dc #ebony writes the thing #three days later. Tim wakes up in a cold sweat. screaming. ‘HE CRACKED HIS BACK LIKE A GLOWSTICK!’

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yandere-wishes · 2 months

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🌟Yandere!Superstar Who's the most sought-after man alive. He's renowned for his singing and the fastest up-and-coming actor of the century.

🌟Yandere!Superstar Who's drawn to your innocence, your purity. A precious little star trapped in an endless ebony night. You shine so brightly as you sip on your Coca-Cola at the diner. Laughing away with your girlfriends. How simple and idle your life is, you have no need to keep up appearances or overdose yourself to keep sane. You're just so sweet, wrapped in a frilly pink blanket of simplicity.

He envies you, truly he does...

🌟Yandere!Superstar who asks you out on a date in front of everyone. Who serenades you with one of his love songs, daring anyone to object. Takes you to the movies for your first date. Rambling excitedly about the new superhero flick that's just come out. He's all so pleasantly shocked when he finds out you also like comic book heroes. How he wishes he was really Superman, able to whisk you away to a hidden sanctuary in the snow. You get milkshakes after and he thinks he might be high off your laughter.

🌟Yandere!Superstar Who asks your father for your hand in marriage. Practically begs him. He'll do anything to keep you by his side. Anything to make you his. For the first time in your life, you detect fear in your father's voice as he agrees.

🌟Yandere!Superstar Who leaves you in his big mansion. Providing you with every luxury you could ever hope for. He even buys you a little furred companion to keep you company. He's off shooting a new movie and calls you every chance he gets. Your phone calls last for hours gossiping about his costars and the tyrannical new director.

🌟Yandere!Superstar who forbids you from going anywhere. Why would you ever want to leave the estate? From the swimming pool to the large exotic garden. There's literally no reason for you to ever step outside. Plus he needs you to be there when he calls, give him your full attention even when he's not physically present.

🌟Yandere!Superstar who has his whole staff looking after you. Anything you crave it's served to you, and anything you want it's in your hands within the hour. He makes sure everyone treats you with utmost respect, better than any fairytale princess. It's such a shame he doesn't realize how isolated you feel, how depressed and lonely you are. Or maybe he does. Maybe it's all a ploy to make you crave his touch, his kisses, him. He needs you broken and needy by the time he gets back.

🌟Yandere!Superstar who has morphed you into his perfect little doll. His darling pet. He dictates everything for you, from the makeup you wear to the color scheme of your outfits. Only the finest silks and jewels have the honor of gracing his baby's skin. Even your nightgowns are hand-picked by him. Don't you always want to look your best for your king?

🌟Yandere!Superstar, who starts taking you on the road with him when he's doing his tours. He can't stand having you so far away anymore. From now on, you'll always be by his side.

🌟Yandere! Superstar who kisses you between shows. Needing to feel your body under him, to build up the ecstasy to perform. Locking you away in hotel suites close enough for him to always have access to. You're his drug. The dose that keeps him going.

🌟Yandere!Superstar who's started keeping you in his trailer while he films. Making sure you know he's not cheating with any of his costars. Filling his trailer with things for you to do and making out with you every chance he gets between sets. He'll make sure you look your best for him. His babydoll. How could you ever think he'd be interested in anyone else?

🌟Yandere!Superstar who makes you straddle him or sit on his lap in every picture. He dresses you in the latest trends, while he wears his handmade suits. The world needs to know just who you belong to.

🌟Yandere! Superstar Who forces you to help him with every song he writes just so you know they're all about you. Only you. He needs you to feel his devotion in your bones. To realize every note he hits is just for you.

🌟Yandere! Superstar who will never ever let you go...

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super-clearlysaltybouquet · 3 months

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The One With the Blouse (1/2)

Part 1/2

Wolfstar x reader Sirius Black x reader Remus Lupin x reader Sirius Black x Remus Lupin Sirius Black x reader x Remus Lupin

Established couple (throuple)

Summary: Reader cares about how people see her, tensions boil over when the group get ready for a Gryffindor party

Warnings:

Angst (argument)

Hurt (and minimal comfort…)

Lots of insecurity, feeling disposable in a relationship

my first fic ever so please be kind…will potentially write a part 2 if people like this one (feedback is welcomed)

word count: 1.8k

Sirius looks so pretty in his white blouse. The silk brings out his dark hair perfectly, and the fabrics warm undertones complimented his pale skin. “Is all the fuss really necessary?” Sirius asked, bothering with the bow neckline of the blouse.

“You want to look good, don’t you?” You respond stiffly, tying, and re-tying the bow, unsatisfied with how it sits around his neck.

“You forgot to Iron it.”, you say, Tying, untying, re-tying. Completely zeroed in.

“Does it really matter?” Sirius responds, completely exasperated.

Remus watches on from the armchair by his bed. It’s standard routine at this point. Before every common room party, Remus is ready by dinner - always a plain top and trousers, today a white T-shirt with blue jeans. “Very James Dean”, Sirius had said. He's been sitting there entirely patient on the same armchair for the past two hours, reading only half attentively as you and Sirius get ready.

“Sweetheart, the bow is fine”, Remus advises gently. He’s not in a rush, but he can tell that as much as you usually enjoy it, today the up-doing process is stressing you out.

“No..no, not yet”, you respond absentmindedly, still fixated on Sirius’s blouse.

Tying, untying, re-tying the bow. Sirius huffs out a humourless laugh and takes a quick step back turning completely away from you. Your hands are still held up, frozen where his neck would be. Your eyebrows furrow, and Remus looks up from his book.

“It’s the same every bloody time!”, Sirius suddenly cries out, you’re completely taken aback.

“Sirius”, Remus warns.

“Godric, Forgive me! I didn’t iron my fucking blouse!”, he feigns, “You’re suffocated me” he finishes, coldly, glaring daggers straight through you. He’s still so beautiful, with his ebony hair hanging long and dark over his face, but the pit in your stomach is somehow darker.

Remus is stood to his full height now, book abandoned. “You’re out of line”, his anger still somehow contained. And Sirius has the gall to let out a laugh. The party in the common room seems to have started. You can hear music and laughing below the bluestone floors. You try and divert your focus to that lively sound and take it off the painful bob in your throat.

“I’m out of line? You’re kidding Moony”, Sirius laughs. his lack of sincerity is incredibly unnerving. “The bitch is vapid”, and your heart nearly stops, you can feel the sick climbing up your throat. Remus is seething, but you’re not sure he knows exactly what to say anyway.

“What?”, is all you can muster hopelessly.

Sirius takes a step towards you, and you all seem to move at once. You take one step back at the same time Remus steps between you and the shorter boy.

“Cut it out Sirius”, Remus warns, towering above the both of you with his height, and his domineering demeanour. But Sirius is undeterred.

“You. are. entirely. vapid”, he repeats, now looking over at you past Remus’s shoulder. “you’re just like my mother” he whispers to himself, like some sort of secret revelation, and you just want it all to end. “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” he seethes, before turning back away from you again, taking in a slow deep breath. You think you can hear his heart beating nearly just as quick as yours.

Sirius’s accusation sits inside you. You can’t deny that you do like nice things. Your jewellery was all made custom, you shopped at the best boutiques on Diagon Alley, and you kept up appearances.

Your parents have always been devastatingly high-achieving. You were no stranger to the odd charity gala, or pureblood ball. So, for you that meant endless expectations to live up to. Making sure clothes were ironed, hair was done right and shoes were all polished was just second nature. You pay attention to these things because you have to. Your label as a “washed-up-witch” in Witch Weekly’s coverage of the Macmillan ball in 72 serves as a reminder. Filtered through pre-teen public humiliation, these things stick. As deflated as you felt regarding Sirius’s outburst, you could feel an equal anger bubbling just below the surface.

“You did not just compare me to your draconian fanatic of a mother”, is the first thing that leaves your lips. Your eyes are wide, and that anger is bubbling over. Yet, your voice is so level that you think you just might have the upper hand. You can tell that Sirius was expecting you to respond with equal fervour, he wanted a fight, and your composure has caught him off guard. You think for a second, maybe he didn’t even mean to hurt you.

Remus would back you up if you needed him to, but he knows you really don’t need him to. You’d like to say your piece, and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze in support.

“Just because you can afford to reject tradition and expectation doesn’t mean we all have that luxury” you seethe.

Sirius has always had the reputation of a Black Sheep, but it made him shine nevertheless. Every act of rebellion on his part was praised and admired by your peers. But as a woman in the 70s, and the only child in a pureblood family - you were often subject to incomparable scrutiny.

“Maybe I’m too much sometimes” your voice breaks, and the tears have started to flow of their own accord now. Rushing like silent broken faucets, or shower heads. Sirius’s eyes flash with regret. You look up at the ceiling to blink them back, and Remus gives your hand another squeeze, silently shaking his head and biting his tongue. He’s glaring at Sirius with a healthy mixture of disappointment, and something akin to fury.

“I can’t help but care about how I look”, you whisper to no one in particular, “This is usually fun, getting dressed up together”, and Sirius looks completely in despair. That almost cocky, goading aura that surrounded him has been evaporated by your undeniable heartbreak. He’s fidgeting with the hem of the blouse now, and his fingers move hesitantly up to his neckline, where your hands sat only moments ago. He’s palming at the skin there, as it slowly turns pink from the pressure.

“I’m only fussy because I care, Sirius”, you say wavering, lip quivering as your crying takes both your eyes, and your voice. He can’t look you in the eye.

The subtext isn’t missed by either of the boys, you care because you love them. You enjoy dressing them up because you want them to look good and enjoy themselves. To protect them from any anxiety associated with landing on a worst dressed list, even informally among the Gryffindor party-goers three flood below.

You look down at your disco boots, perfect stockings and shift dress. It all feels so silly now, wearing the outfit you picked out three days in advance. You want to crawl out of your skin, and you really don’t feel like dancing. Sirius is still palming at his collarbones, staring with dazed and shallow eyes at his feet and the floor below them. You can’t see his face properly behind his hair, but you know him well enough to think he might be crying too. “I hope you’re proud of yourself Black” Remus chimes in, and you wince at the use of that last name. Remus’s hand rubs small circles around the back of your neck, you can't help but want his hot skin off you.

“I-I didn’t-”, Sirius starts, but you walk from the room with Remus quick at your heels before he can finish.

The stairway down to the common room is empty, with the party building up below. It’s just you and Remus standing still on the stairs. “You know he didn’t mean that”, Remus says kindly, more for your sake than Sirius’s. He’s brushing the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, and gently pushing the hair back from around your face. “He gets like this when he’s stressed, it’s not your fault”, he reassures, kissing the top of your head.

“I stressed him, I should have just let him be”, you whisper, and Remus is silent. This is the first big fight you've had as a couple. You’re a slightly more recent addition to their pairing. Quips and little disagreements have never been an issue. Even when you were all just friends these things were always resolved in a matter of minutes - or a few hours at most, but this is the first time a spat has ended in tears.

You wonder if this was a mistake. You hope to Godric that Remus isn’t thinking it too. “I think I’ll go to bed”, you say finally, and you can feel him frown.

“But you were so excited for tonight” he says sadly, more of an acknowledgment, you know he doesn’t mean to change your mind. You’re all hardly in the mood for a party.

“Maybe you and Sirius can still have some fun”, and you hope it doesn’t come across as bitter, but Remus’s solemn expression suggests otherwise, he lets it go.

“I’ll talk to him”, Remus assures, as he molds his body around yours in a much-needed embrace. Having him so close stirs a vulnerability within you, and you’re sure that if you could see his face, you wouldn't have the courage to open your mouth.

“Maybe we were wrong”, you whisper into his chest, scared.

Remus is burning 20 degrees hotter.

“What makes you say that?”, he responds measured, but the unease in his voice is palpable. He’s pulled back to look at your face now, and you fidget under his gaze. You give him a look to say without words, ‘are you kidding?’.

“But you know we love you”, Remus says desperately, more of a question than a statement, gripping the sides of your head firmly, so as to say, ‘please believe me’. You just shake your head between his hands. “You heard him, didn’t you?”, you start, “Completely superficial, shallow, and entirely vapid” you quote, and Remus cringes.

“I’ll talk to him”, he repeats.

“No, no its okay, I’m going to bed”, you say, almost completely defeated by the tidal wave of self-doubt flooding through you.

“Dove-”

“How about you talk to him, and you two can decide what we do from here”, Remus looks heartbroken at the implication.

“Surely you don’t think we don’t want to see you anymore?”, There seems to be something sparkly welling in his eyes too, Godric, what a horrible evening.

You’re so in your head you hardly register Remus’s question. When he goes to pull you close again you take a small step back, your fingers still interlinked. The moonlight shines in through the stained glass, and the sparkle of salt in Remus’s eyes begins to fall. You can hear Diana Ross’s smooth voice echoing off the stone from downstairs, tonight could have gone so differently. You can’t help but feel you’ve caused all this. Whatever animosity Sirius seems to have been harbouring towards you, you’re sure it lives inside Remus too, even if you can’t see it yet. You turn around before you have the chance to look back.

“I’m going to bed”.

#wolfstar x reader #sirius black x reader #remus x sirius #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x remus lupin #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar

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pomegranateandblood · 3 months

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do you think you can do a wally clark fluff turned into smut maybe? i know you said you only do smut but i would love it if u could! thank u!

A/N: Heyyy. Welcome to my first fic for this blog. You wanted more fluff so I kept the smut a little bit on the down low for this, because usually I write full on smexy times. Thank you for requesting and Enjoy! ❤️🍍

—

Friends

It was Homecoming week. You and the other ghosts were busy decorating the gym and painting posters to support Wally.

You were washing your hands and arms free off the dry blue paint as the brunette jock approached you. He seemed nervous.

„Everything okay ? You know it's the same routine as every year." You smiled looking at him through the mirror.

He had paint on his cheeks and arms, some even got into his ebony hair. „Look umm, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my date to the homecoming game?"

He was beet red, looking down at his hands. „-as friends of course."

You had to hold back a smile at his cute attempt not to make you flustered or embarrassed by his request.

Turning the faucet off, you dried your hands with paper towels before turning around. „I didn't guess you were the type to be ‚just friends' with a girl, football star."

You smirked playfully and he stared at you, mouth slightly open. „I- umm." he laughed nervously trying to find a right comeback.

„I guess I'm just not your type. Sadly." You clicked your tongue against your cheek before leaning close to his ear „Because I totally got a thing for tall, brunette jocks."

He sucked in a breath and before you could walk away held onto your arm. „It's a date. Wear a skirt."

You bit your lip as you nodded and walked away.

„Please" he added, his enthusiastic voice hollowing through the empty bathroom, making you giggle. Wally couldn't be not nice.

—-

As you waited for Wally in front of the stadium, you became more nervous. You really liked him and hoped that today you two could do something about the unresolved feelings.

Charly had helped you go through the wardrobe of the theatre club to find a skirt and matching outfit. Luckily they had just performed a more modern version of ‚Hairspray', resulting in you now wearing a pastel blue pleated skirt and a white tank top with a bow detail.

Good Thing that ghosts couldn't freeze bc else you definitely would've caught a cold in the chilly evening air.

„I hope I didn't make you wait too long, I couldn't find my jersey."

The date went well, Wally was enjoying the match.

After you two finished the fries and hot dogs he held your hand. Butterflies erupted in your stomach, flushing your cheeks.

„I got a gift for you." Wally said, taking out a box from the pocket of his letterman jacket.

It was a cardboard box, painted with the same paint you used for the posters.

„I found a necklace in the Lost and Found Box and the charm is wood. I wish I could give you something real and more special.“ Wally said as he opened the lid.

Inside was a silver necklace with a small pendant. The number 57. Wally‘s number.

You smiled. „It‘s perfect.“

Taking it out of the box, you fumbled with the clasp to put it on.

„I love it, Wally. Thank you" you said, touching the little pendant on your cleavage.

Your eyes drifted from his plush lips to his chocolate orbs, contemplating if you should kiss him. Before you could move, his hand touched your thigh at the seam of your skirt, burning your skin.

He licked his lips before leaning forward, giving you an innocent smooch. Noses to Nose he whispered. „I'm glad you don't want to be my friend."

The Hand on your thigh moved up to your hips and pulled you on his lap, your back pressed against the edge of the table. Being touched by him felt so good.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, capturing his lips again. He moaned into your mouth, which made you move your hips against his lap.

His hair was soft between your fingers and you slightly pulled at it. His hands snuck under your skirt, securing your hips on his crotch.

„Mmh is that why you wanted me to wear a skirt?" you teased, leaning your head back as he started kissing your neck.

The chuckle vibrated against the sensitive skin of your throat, right at your pulse point. You sighed.

„No, I just like the view of your legs. Even if it benefits me now." he groans.

You could feel the wetness of your panties as you tried to ease the friction between your thigh by pressing against him.

„Fuck, you want me to fuck you on this bench love?" He looks at you with dark eyes.

Wally must be uncomfortable in his tight football pants, so you pull at the strings securing it. „Yes please."

He helps you pull them off just enough to free his length, before he hungrily nips at your lips again.

His fingers pulled your panties to the side and you guided him inside of you.

Your other hand dug into the fabric of his football jersey and you moaned into his mouth. Placing his hands on your hips again, Wally thrusted up into you.

Your hips met his thrusts and you pulled away from his brusing kiss, trying to catch your breath.

„Wally" you moaned, clenching around him.

His lips explored your jawline down to your cleavage, biting and nipping. He would surely leave marks.

The edge of the table dug into your lower back with every thrust, but you didn't care. As long as the dark haired ghost kept on pleasuring you like this.

His Thumb found your clit, massaging with different paces, bringing you closer to the edge.

„Don't stop, please" you breathed, circling your hips more.

He kissed you again as he came, spilling inside you with a few sloppy thrusts.

You joined him, collapsing into his arms.

Wally held you, his hands caressing your back, finger playing with a few strands of your hair and you put your head against his chest, trying to spot his nonexistent heartbeat.

You realized neither of you talked about what this made you. A couple?

All you knew was that he made your heart flutter and your head dizzy. Hopefully this could last another lifetime. Or more.

—

#milo manheim fanfiction #milo manheim #wally clark smut #wally clark #wally clark x reader #school spirits

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fazcinatingblog · 2 years

Text

Twitter is weird that you can mute people but they still let you follow pfffft

#like ugh she implied that it was funny port were after ebony because of their prison bar thing????#i want to know what that's about????#ebony's a jailbird #she was recruited from the TV show orange is the new black #write a fic of ebony on OITNB even though I've never seen the show

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jaehunnyy · 5 months

Text

time's the charm | cs

Genre: 'hate everyone but you' trope, angst, fluff

Word count: 2.3k

Pairing: quiet-boy!San x fem!reader

Warnings: San has a sad past (nothing triggering mentioned tho), mentions of running from home, sadness, toxic men, crying, some harsh words, misunderstandings, happy ending tho!!, possible grammar mistakes

Taglist: @shakalakaboomboo, @pocketjoong-reads, @nebulousbrainsoup, @justhere4kpop, @bluisheye93, @i-luvsang, @ad0rechuu, @starillusion13

You had no idea when the quiet, ebony haired guy’s eyes started to form red hearts whenever they landed on you. You had no idea when he gathered the courage to look away from his phone, just so he could get a glimpse of your outfit that day, or your hair, anything when it came to you. You also had no idea that Choi San was capable of having feelings, and neither did he. That was the first time San pleasantly surprised someone.

There wasn’t much he knew about you. Aside from your not-so-good reputation around the campus, he also found out that you held the power to make his heart jolt in happiness, or whatever that feeling was supposed to be. The lingering feeling of warmth whenever he saw you was burning his skin, along with the electric arrows piercing through his spine—and he hated it. He hated that he couldn’t hate you, just like he did with everyone else around him. But he knew he brought it upon himself, and maybe this one time, he was willing to try and risk some things.

You, on the other hand, knew what the people around you wanted you to know about him. San didn’t talk to anyone except one person (the only person he called a friend, just because they were roommates), which is why you just let the guys in your class spill whatever harsh things they dreamt up whenever his headphones were covering his ears; except he wasn’t always listening to music, but also to the things they were saying about him—because what’s so great in lying is the not knowing.

Little did they know that instead of making you stay away from him, it intrigued you. You wanted to see behind the fluffy halo of black surrounding his head—you wanted to know the story of the blue streak that blended in between his black hairs, what music resonated through his ears every break, or what shop he preferred whenever he went shopping. Something told you there was something special about the guy. He was different from all the other ones you messed with, and as much as you didn’t want to hurt him, you were selfish enough to want him for yourself.

Love did its wonders in the last few weeks, cause San didn’t know what had gotten into him when he grabbed the smallest piece of paper he eyed and a pen, writing a short note and putting it into your locker. It was like Cupid was controlling him or whatever, and as much as his nose scrunched at the thought of those lovey-dovey things, his heart swelled with pride. He just wanted to be looked at from a different point of view, he thought that maybe, you would look at him differently.

“San? Did you just put something into y/n’s locker?” his only friend, Yeosang, asked him with a frown on his face.

San looked at him with puppy-like eyes, as he was caught red-handed.

“San… what did I tell you when you transferred here?”

The black haired guy looked at the older boy, whispering in a tiny voice: “To stay away from her.”

“Well, it definitely doesn’t seem like you are too great at it.” His friend snapped, dragging him along the hallway.

“Yeosang, she makes me feel things no one else has, I don't even know how to describe it.”

“She will make you feel some unique things when she will break your heart too.” The blonde haired guy said and left, not in the mood to argue with his friend.

San felt small again. He hated everyone for the way they treated him—for seeing him as nothing less than a fragile thing who could break in any second. When he ran away at the age of fourteen, everything changed inside the once bubbly guy. He became quiet, indifferent even, or that was just the wall he built around him from broken memories and dirty past; cause deep down, he just wanted to be loved, despite hate being the only thing he knew how to offer.

You truly wanted to get closer to him. You admired how his head bobbed to the beat of the music he was listening to, or how his lips would form a pout when he got out of words when writing a note—the same love notes that continued to grow into a pile on your desk, bringing a lopsided smile on your face whenever you thought about the dimpled guy who sent them. You saw him sticking one of them a few days ago, yet you had too much fun seeing him like this—as the cold boy who had a soft spot for you; so you acted a fool.

You weren’t as bad as everyone claimed you were; you were just giving nasty men a taste of their own poison. Call yourself a femme fatale or whatever, but you just enjoyed seeing them crawl for forgiveness after what they did; yet your little act of service brought you a title as dirty as your actions, so you could just bear it in exchange for some healed hearts. You grew tired of the brokenhearted girls around the campus, so you just made their exes approach you enough so you could break their heart; you would call it playing the hero; except it wasn’t seen the same by the ones who sided with the villains of the story.

The more time passed, the more you were getting infatuated with the quiet boy, as much as he was getting addicted to your intoxicating presence. You could say you two fell in love with the help of the innocent notes, hiding behind the sweet nothings plastered on the pieces of paper; and this little word game of yours gave San enough confidence, the moment he decided he was ready to ask you on a messy date. That was the second time he pleasantly surprised someone with his efforts.

You might be curious about who I am. Meet me today at 7pm in the park? ♡

You would have said yes, if only someone didn’t have a trump card. The moment San turned his back away from the lockers, the boy who had other plans for you took the note and stamped on it, before throwing it into the closest trash bin he found. He couldn’t let this date happen, and it sadly didn’t—which is why you weren’t aware of the guy waiting for you in the cold, tears threatening to stain his cheeks with the salty taste of loss. Was that all he was destined to? Pain? Where did he go wrong this time?

He waited and waited, and when the clock hit 9pm, he realized he should have probably listened to his friend. He was way out of your league—and still, your responses to his texts (though he supposed you didn’t know it was him), and the subtle smiles you threw in his direction, he thought that maybe, just maybe, in his world full of darkness and bad luck, you would be his lucky charm. He let out a bitter laugh the moment he felt the familiar wetness on his cheek, making him remember that instead of hating everyone but you, he should have stuck to hating everyone, including you. That was the moment he swore he would never waste his feelings on anyone, deciding that he was made to wallow in self-pity forever.

And as expected due to the circumstances, the notes stopped—and you were sad; that sad that you distanced yourself from your heartthrob activities, just to focus on the boy you grew to adore. But things changed—San changed. He didn’t look at you anymore, his once fond look turning into painful daggers whenever your eyes laid on him. His dimples were hidden deeply in his soft cheeks, making you wonder what happened. If it was your fault, if it was a false hope you had, if he was like the other ones. While you two were hurting each other with the lack of affection, the tragedy was happening under the eyes of the person who screwed it all.

You endured, and endured, until one day, you couldn’t endure anymore. When you finished your lectures, you followed San, stopping him at the nearest wall of the school and looking into his eyes.

“Why did you stop sending me notes? I liked them, San.” You whispered, looking for any sign of emotion on his face.

To say he was surprised that you knew it was him was an understatement—though it didn’t matter anymore. You were probably just trying to fool him again.

“I never sent you any notes. You must be mistaking me for someone else.” He said coldly, not even looking into your eyes. He was lying.

“I saw you sticking them to my locker, San. Please, tell me.”

He let out a scoff, followed by a mocking laughter.

“Why do you even care now? Are you going to tell the whole college now? That I am such a pathetic guy?”

“San, please!”

He looked at your pleading eyes, debating if he should give you an explanation or not. You didn’t deserve it, but his feelings made a step forward.

“Why would I try to hit on someone who would only laugh at me? You broke my heart—gave me hope, and then stamped on all my efforts to ask you out the moment you made me wait for you for two hours. And this isn’t even the biggest problem,” he paused, his sharp eyes laying on your confused face: “The problem is I can't even hate you for it. Because I know you deserve better; yet I still had some hope.”

Your eyes widened. What was this man talking about? While you were engulfed in your thoughts, he was ready to leave, but you were quick to grab his wrist, making him turn back to you, an annoyed expression on his face.

“San, let me talk.”

“About? I already know you don’t do relationships or anything, kind of learned it the hard way.” He said sarcastically, yet you knew he was as hurt as you were.

“If you truly like me, give me a chance to speak,” you begged, and you saw his stiff expression relaxing just a bit, a small nod of his head encouraging you to continue: “I don’t understand. What did you expect from me? You never asked me out!”

San frowned, knuckles so tense from the way he was clenching his fists.

“I literally did a week ago?”

You don’t recall receiving a note a week ago. You thought hard, but the last time you got a note from him, he asked you to expect something later. So, what if someone was sabotaging you, stealing the chance you had away?

“San, I didn't find any notes a week ago. I can show you all the notes I have if you want, I… kinda collect them.” You said, a small blush on your cheek—only that he wasn’t buying it this time.

And that’s when it hit you.

“San, wait—what if I never got the note? What if someone didn’t want us to happen?”

“Stop finding excuses to play with me.”

“San, I'm not, list—”

You were interrupted by a shuffling sound behind you, and that's when the culprit who was eavesdropping all this time appeared, a halo of fair hair surrounding his head as he looked down, drenched in guilt.

“It was me. I didn't want you to happen, because I was scared you would hurt my friend.” Yeosang whispered, head hung down in shame.

He never felt that small in front of San; it was always the other way around. But now, he felt like he did the wrongest thing ever, and he didn’t think he had any right to look his friend—or you, in the eyes.

“Yeosang…? Why would you even? You—you knew I was so into her, so… why…?”

“I know she hurts everyone she gets with. I wanted to prevent you from heartbreak.”

“I don't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. I just get revenge for my friends’ broken hearts by messing with their exes’ minds, and this might make me look like some sort of fuckgirl and whatnot, but this time, I fell in love. For real.”

San looked at you in awe, the light in his beautiful eyes shining again.

“Did you really?” he stuttered,

“I… I think I did, yeah.”

San wondered if it was too late to ask you out, again. And, as the invisible red thread of fate tied you to one another, you kinda read his thoughts.

“If you still want to, I would love to go out with you, Sannie.”

Sannie. The first nickname that got his heart running laps, along with the butterflies dancing a sweet dance of victory inside of him.

Yeosang’s eyes filled with hope, and he looked up at his friend, who gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder.

“Thank you for caring, Yeosang. But I am on my own now.” He said, before grabbing your hand and leaving with you.

This was San—the quiet guy who was pretending to hate everyone while waiting for the person who would look behind his intentions, who would see how much he craved to be loved and understood. He improved so much, and that was the third time San had pleasantly surprised someone—but this time, it would definitely not be the last.

After everything he had been through, he felt like the sun had finally risen on his street, the moment he first woke up with you in his arms. This was only the start of his journey to happiness, and he hoped it would last more than the suffering he went through in his twenty years of life.

Time’s the charm, and despite the hardships you two faced, he wouldn’t want it any other way. He felt invincible when he held your hand, happiness written all over his face, and he was sure that he wasn’t meant to cycle this beautiful trip alone, but with the love of his life by his side.

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